Page 12 of Perfume Girl
Inhaling sharply, I forced myself to calm down. “I need more time to come up with the funds so I can keep my store.”
“We’re buying a house,” he bit out. “I want the money I put in.”
“You never did anything for the store.”
“Did more than enough.” He strolled back behind the counter.
“You hung a few pictures.” I gestured in frustration.
“I built those shelves.”
“That’s right, but you weren’t there for the opening. And now I know why.”
“Next time go through my lawyer.”
I wanted to spew insults and accusations, but no words came out. I was too full of heartache to convey what I wanted to say.
I headed for the door.
“Babe,” Damien called after me.
I turned and glared back at him. “What?”
‘“When a storm’s coming?’” he quoted me.
“Karma,” I replied with a nod. “It always finds you.”
He gave me a smug little smile. “You’ve lost everything, Raquel. So how did being cautious work out for you?”
“I was going to surprise you for your birthday. I was taking salsa classes.” So I could wow him…match the bastard move for move when he partied hard.
You left it too late.
He smirked. “You’d have surprised me all right.”
I bit my cheek in frustration. “You know what your problem is? You underestimate me. Always have.”
“You think so?”
“Just reminding you that I’m a fighter. I always bounce back and I always find a way.”
“Good, because I wanna see that two hundred and fifty K in my bank by the end of the month. That store was a waste of time.” He reached for the knife and began slicing.
His words cut deeper.
I turned and made my way back through the restaurant with my heart racing and my mouth dry with panic, realizing that the storm had already made landfall.
Damien was right…I had lost everything.
All I had left wasme.
“WHAT THE HELL ARE THESE?” I stared into the box at the pair of shoes and cringed.
“Crocodile.” Taylor held out my tie. “Jasper thought they’d give you a millennial edge.”
I accepted the tie from her and wove it around my neck while staring at the monstrosities that were meant to pass as footwear. “I can’t wear these, Taylor.”
“They’re y.”
